


School Day

by JustARandomIdiot



Series: Baby Story Thieves [2]
Category: Story Thieves Series - James Riley
Genre: Angst, Elementary School, Gen, Isolation, Lies, Loneliness, School, bethany has no friends, but only lies abt having friends or being fine so people dont worry, i genuinely dont know what to tag this, i had no friends then so bethany gets no friends, i remember tho this was all just me projecting onto bethany from when i was in fifth grade, im so sorry bethany that was mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustARandomIdiot/pseuds/JustARandomIdiot
Summary: Just another normal day in second grade for eight-year-old Bethany Sanderson.
Series: Baby Story Thieves [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792159
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	School Day

It was free time. Everyone loved free time! Free time meant talking in class. Free time meant getting out of your seat to be with your friends. Free time meant getting to play games like Jenga or Snakes and Ladders or Candyland with them.

Not to Bethany Sanderson. To her, free time meant being alone. Free time was watching everyone else get into their groups while she sat in the corner. Free time was just another reminder that she’d never belong. No one wanted her, and no one even noticed that she was by herself. Everyone else had someone. They cared more for each other than for her.

Her teacher asked if she wanted to play with the other kids. As much as she wanted to, she shook her head. She couldn’t join them; you don’t just  _ join _ a friend group, that wasn’t how it worked. It was the basic friendship rule that you don’t just  _ ask  _ to be part of a group! Groups had to be made! So she just told her teacher that she had books, and that she was happy with just books.

That was all she had, really: the books from the shelves, but you couldn’t really talk to books. You  _ especially _ couldn’t talk to books if you didn’t want your mother to find out you’ve been jumping into them to find your missing father. That was too risky, because then, she might not even  _ have _ books, which were her only source of comfort in this isolating world. She made her rules for a reason, because books were her only friends. If she didn’t have books, she had nothing.

Peeking over the pages of the _Rainbow Magic_ book in her hands, she stared longingly as the other kids laughed together. She watched as they smiled together. She watched them hug, high five, and fist bump.

Her own hand twitched, wanting to do those very actions herself with someone, anyone, to call her friend. 

But she didn’t have that. She just had books. So she just read, losing her mind into the world of her imagination. At least for only the moment, she could forget that she was truly alone.

* * *

If free time was already bad, recess was worse. This time, she didn’t have books to drown in. The teacher didn’t allow the kids to bring them out, in fear that the pages and covers could be dirtied from the playground, even if Bethany was a good kid who wouldn’t dare commit such crimes. But she was also a good kid who followed rules, because disobedience always led to bad things. So she left the books behind.

Usually, Bethany settled on slowly stepping from root to root of one of the oak trees near the edge of the playground, going in circles until the thirty minutes was up. It was her favorite oak tree; sometimes, she found tiny acorns between the roots. Sometimes, grasshoppers or tiny frogs could be seen, and catching them was always fun. She especially loved staring at them once they sat still, and she could see them breathing, or twitching their legs. The oak tree was just like her books: always there for her, no matter what.

This time, however, she chose to spend all thirty minutes on the swingset. More often than not, the swings were never available, so she was really lucky to be able to grab one. Like a professional, she kicked her legs forward as she leaned back, then bent them together as she leaned forward. She repeated this action over and over, her body slowly going into motion. Pretty soon, she was going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, the world around her rushing past.

She loved going onto the swings, honestly. At least she could have fun by herself, not really needing anyone to accompany her. All she had to do was pump her legs, and she was going up and down, closer and closer to the sky, as if she could eventually reach her hand out and touch it.

If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was flying, higher than she really was. She could feel her hair blowing back and forth, the wind whipping in her ears. And if she wasn’t closing her eyes, if she timed it just right, she could jump off and land on her feet on the ground, becoming an acrobat for those few seconds, even if the teacher never approved of the kids doing so.

Today, she decided she’d be flying, her red hair waving everywhere as she pumped her legs over and over, the steady rhythm relaxing her as she soared through her small section of air. For several minutes, she was content, nowhere near her school or her friendless problems.

She was free.

Those minutes of bliss ended too soon, however, as she was brought back into her cruel reality.

A girl from the class asked if she could go on the swing instead. Her other two friends were on the swings to the right, and she wanted to swing with them so that they could talk.

Bethany wasn’t one to attract attention, and she definitely wasn’t one to pick a fight, so she just smiled and let the girl go on instead. Feeling quite dejected, she snuck a quick glance behind her, watching all three girls laughing and smiling, yelling to each other as they passed each other midway, soaring high above the playground together.

Turning away, Bethany made her way to her oak tree. With each step, she was keenly aware of the other kids sprinting around her, playing games like Tag, Hide and Seek, or even pretend. Several of them were in groups, running from place to place as they played. Bethany lowered her head, walking faster as her long hair covered her eyes.

At least her tree was always there for her. Up in the branches above her head, squirrels chittered and chattered, fighting over the acorns as they hopped from branch to branch. A few blue jays and robins flew down, singing their songs before flying off again.

She wished they could go up and join them. It’d be so fun to sit up high in the branches among the squirrels and the birds, who were able to move from tree to tree as they pleased. They could easily decide that they wanted something else: a higher branch, another tree, a different acorn. They had freedom.

But the branches were too far for her arms to reach. Her hands didn’t have claws to climb up the trunk. And she didn’t have wings to just fly up there. So she began her usual activity: going along the tree roots, waiting for the grasshoppers and frogs to show themselves.

If they showed up at all.

* * *

There was always one more lesson before school ended: science. Bethany didn’t mind science. Some of it was really cool! She liked the lessons, and she loved whenever the teacher decided to perform an experiment for the class.

Unfortunately, this was the week where they had to do a group project for their science lesson, and the teacher let everyone choose their groups a couple days ago. Everyone was in groups of twos, threes, and fours, except Bethany. She was the only group of one.

The teacher had asked if she wanted to join a group, but she shook her head. She said that she preferred to work alone, despite that being as far away from the truth as possible. But how could she just ask the other kids if she could join them? Friendship rules applied to group projects, too!

Quietly, she started drawing on her poster paper as best and as big as she could, copying the textbook’s picture of an eagle as close as possible. They were learning about the food chain, and everyone had to look up a food chain from a habitat. She chose the forest. Her food chain was going to have an eagle, another bird, a bug, a tree, and the sun. She planned it all the day before, doing all her research. And she was proud! She knew what she wanted to do, and her eagle was looking quite nice!

As she started coloring in its feathers, she couldn’t ignore the sounds of the classmates all around her. They chatted. They giggled. They offered each other advice on how they could make their food chain. They complimented each other, telling one another that their drawings were great, that fish was so realistic, that they colored in the lines so perfectly.

Bethany stopped coloring, looking at her eagle. No one was telling her that her eagle was great. No one was saying that it was realistic. No one told her that she colored it perfectly.

No one said any of that. And her eagle was none of those things.

Her eagle was lopsided, its eyes too small and its wings different sizes. It didn’t resemble the photo from the textbook at all, just some horrifying replica that tried its hardest to be an eagle, only to fail. And her coloring was terrible; she couldn’t stay completely in the lines, small lines of brown sticking out from its body.

Looking at everyone else’s drawings, hers was boring as well as terrible. Other kids had markers. Some kids had more than just twelve colored pencils. Their colors were vibrant. Hers was just dull in comparison.

Her drawing wasn’t good.

In shame, she continued slowly, trying her hardest to focus on the task in front of her and ignore everyone around her.

* * *

The end of the school day was always something to look forward to. Her worries about friends and classmates could finally disappear, and she could be free from the burden until she had to go to school the next day. But at least she had at most 18 hours free from her anxiety.

As usual, her mother arrived in her car ten minutes after the bell, and she climbed into the backseat, greeting her with a smile. Before, her mom would ask her why she sat alone, why she wasn’t talking to anyone, why she wasn’t spending any time with her friends. 

She never wanted to burden her mother with the truth; the last thing she wanted to do was make her worry. Her mother was already upset, especially after they lost her dad. She had enough to worry about: their home, bills, her work, money, groceries. Bethany made it her mission to at least not add on to her list of worries.

So she managed to convince her that the friends she had took the bus, that they were picked up earlier than her, that they walked home from school. And her mother believed her.

Bethany was good at lying. It wasn’t something she was proud of, but lying seemed to make everyone happy. She lied to her mom as much as she lied to her teachers. She lied to her mom about not jumping into books. She lied to her mom about how she felt. She lied to her mom about having friends. 

She made up stories with the names from the class. One of her friends had a dad who was a pilot, flying around the world. One of her friends lived with their grandma and seven cats. Another friend was originally from New York, and moved to their town only a year ago. The four of them loved to hang out together at school. They always played Jenga and Hangman together, and at recess, they’d play Double Dutch with the jump ropes. They were all best friends.

Only it wasn’t true. Because Bethany had none.

Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, her mother asked her how her day was. But everyday was the same for her. There was never anything too new, and if there was, it wasn’t important.

Her days were never great.

But she never wanted to worry her mother. Her mother had enough to worry about.

So she did what she did everyday. She smiled back, and she told another lie.

“It was great, Mom, same as usual!”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like maybe a year ago? More? I don't remember exactly but this writing is kind of old and I didn't even bother to reread/edit anytime near posting so if it sucked or at least didn't seem similar to my current writing style :P
> 
> Also be sure to check out the other baby Story Thieves fics written by my friends in this series! They're awesome!


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